


After Party

by thisisembarrassingin2020



Category: La Liga - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Neymessi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisembarrassingin2020/pseuds/thisisembarrassingin2020
Summary: When will we get the time to be just friends? It's never safe for us, not even in the evening, cause I, I've been drinking....
Kudos: 7





	1. Hi. I Wanna Take Your Place

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care for grammar mistakes lmao english is my 2nd language also brazilian rights.

Sandro Rosell announced, this thursday afternoon, his departure from the presidency of Barcelona. In an official statement at the club's headquarters, after a meeting with the rest of Barça's management, the manager submitted a resignation due to the complaint he suffered. The current vice president, José Maria Bartomeu, will take office and will remain in charge until 2016, when Rosell's term ends.  
\- My family and I have suffered threats and attacks that made me wonder if being president means putting my family at risk. In the last few days I suffered an unfair denunciation of embezzlement, which came to court. I believe my work here is over. So I submit my resignation to the Barcelona board - said Rosell, who was applauded by those present in the press room.

••••

July 3rd, 2013.  
It's seven in the morning. Today is the big day.  
Neymar is getting introduced as an official member of Barcelona. I mean, I am.  
I have no clue how did I get here. No clue of what did I do, precisely, to get to where I am today. I just know I did something right, and it's been working so far.  
It's all new, and some things are still haunting me. Did my father practically made that man resign because he's that kind of greedy? I don't know. Does my father extort me, to the point I don't know if my career is mine or his? Yes. But that doesn't matter. It should matter, it does, but not right now, not in the place where I'm at today.  
I am here, and today, a new chapter of my life begins. I have expectations about everything. I wonder what the sun feels like in Spain. I wonder if my broken spanish will be finally turned into a 'sort-of-okay-spanish'. I wonder how long it'll take for me to start loving my new life, and I want to know if my life here will be happier than what it used to be in Brazil.  
I don't want to be the best. I told the press that. "I want to assist Messi in his journey of being the world's top player", I said, as a joke.  
Bullshit. I don't intend on being a coadjuvant. I'm swimming in a shitload of money - really, just a shitload of money - and this scares me. I know the power money has. Money can bring laziness, can make you sloppy. But not me, not now, not while I'm only 21 years old, on the best club in the world. I can't believe this is my life.  
I've been a part of this world for a while now, and I've learned to deal with fame. But I admit - I'm scared for my own career. I need to be the best because comparisons between me and their star, Messi, will inevitably come up, on a daily basis. And I don't wanna be his shadow. I don't want to lose to him, even though we're now playing for the same team - I haven't forgotten 2011. It's probably not the best mentality to hold on to when you're entering a new club, but I don't really care.  
I wanna be the top player. I wanna make my time count. I'm in my fucking prime and I wanna be the best player Barcelona has ever had - even if I have to steal the protagonism of my personal hero and now teammate. 

•••••••••••••••

August 2nd, 2013.  
I wake up. It's a beautiful house.  
Actually, not a house - a futebolistic mansion. Yes, it's a house shaped like a stadium. I just happen to have this much money. It's a big mansion, with tons of workers, booze, beds, bathrooms, towels, sofas and TV's, you name it. But it is a lonely house still. Too many empty rooms that give you the creeps, a weird aura of loneliness. Money gave me this house, but fame didn't give me shit.  
Yet it's something I'm proud of, this house. I'm proud, even though sometimes it feels like it's not really mine. Something stranged from me.  
But then I look at her and I know this is my house, because she's here.  
And speaking of her..

\- We should've gone to sleep earlier. You look tired.

She runs her fingers through my hair.

\- I know. It's fine, I'm not that tired at all.  
She smiles. I know what she's thinking. Leans in on me for a kiss. I lean back... and I guess I can be a little more late.

•••••••

I come in to an empty locker room. Am I at the right place or are the guys just this late?  
\- No, you're at the right place. They're a little late.  
Shit, was I talking out loud? I turn around. That's Martino, Barcelona's coach.  
I don't know what to answer - so a smile will do. I hope he won't try to make conversation.  
\- So, are you excited for today?, he tried, unable to read my mind.  
\- Today's game?  
\- Yes.  
\- Hm, I guess. It's just a friendly.  
He looks around like he's searching for something.  
\- I hope the new kid doesn't intimidate you!, he chuckles in a weirdly loud laugh.  
\- (Chuckle) I don't think so. I've played with him before. He's good, but, you know, this time we're playing together.  
\- You're going to be great. Have some patience with him, though. (...) He's just 21.  
Yeah, I know that.  
\- And I'm 26. Is it that different?  
\- No. But, just... understand the fact that he's at the top of the world right now. It can be hard, uhm, dealing [with him]. But, from now on you're going to see a lot of him, and I need you two to get along. The both of you are now our frontline,...  
\- I know-, I tried to interrupt him, failing.  
\- And it's important to maintain, at least, cordiality. I've been in this business long enough to see teams break down cause the players, just... (deep breath). Don't do this. Ok?  
\- Ok. I knew all that.  
\- Great.  
We shake hands.  
All that, and I barely got to see the guy. We interacted during practice, which was basically nothing.  
8-0, against the club he had just left. I wonder what he felt like playing against them and even assisting me twice. I'm laughing, but he wasn't. 

He was good. I felt the chemistry. We're gonna make it work. I can see it.


	2. What The Fuck Was That

I drank. I've never picked myself for a sentimental kind of guy, nor a drinker. But I drank. Fuck it. The context was basically asking for it - I'm relatively alone in a country I don't even speak the native language and my (old) team lost 8-0. I'm supposed to compete with this absolute unbeatable soccer beast. Was I supposed to have stayed there? Why does that make sense for me? As if I've somehow betrayed my teammates. No, I haven't. It's business. They would've done the same in my shoes. I took an _opportunity_. It's not a bad thing.

It was august 5th. I didn't wanna drink alone, surely, so I went down to the hotel lobby after I drank all the small liquor bottles, that had no effect in me (for the first 20 minutes). There used to be party and gatherings every day in this damn hotel, but not today, my lucky day, the only day I needed it to have any kind of distraction. There was no one on the lobby, except for random groups of people, who looked like teenagers. Some people recognized me from afar before I could even think about, I don't know, seeing what's for dinner - so I just left and went back to my room. I'm staying at this five star hotel until my housing situation is decided. I don't trust anyone enough to handle this situation for me, and if it's up to me, I could live in this hotel, no problem. But I'm looking into it. I also haven't gotten none of my cars here. I haven't even had the time to sort my own luggage out - apparently I've only had the time to see my old team lose 8-0. With me assisting not once, but _twice_.

It's been a month since I moved and I'm not in a good mood, and these tiny liquor bottles don't kick in fast enough. I'm upset because I've been alone for a whole month. Turns out, I'm more of a loner than I thought once I feel intimidated. I feel uncomfortable, like a child seeing their idol in display. You're not supposed to meet your idols, nevertheless compete with them.

I train with them, and it's weird. They're so normal. Am I a threat? Are they a threat? Am I a cheater, did I do this too soon? I saw them on my TV. These guys were my idols. It's weird. I don't want to be for them what people have been to me. I'm not a fan of idolatry, and I surely don't like my writing enough to see it on pieces of papers the entire day... I feel like I have no answers; all I know is that I'm drowning in this feeling of satisfaction and also anxiety, and this combination makes me a different kind of scared that I've never felt before. I wanna be here and make a difference. But I admit - I've been hiding myself away, as far as I possibly can, at least mentally, yes. The press, my father, interviews, even practice. I swear to God, sometimes I ask myself why the hell am I even famous.

**I've been away. My mind's somewhere else. I'm lost, but I'll find myself once I'm in the field for good.**

••••

_A_ _ugust 7th, 2013._

\- Can you believe this? It's a 15 hour flight... for a friendly we know we'll win!

\- Don't say it like that!, she laughed. You don't know what could happen.

\- Oh, yeah, like fucking Thailand is gonna beat us.

\- They won't, but it's an opportunity. For them.

\- Yeah... Can you sit on top of this?, I point at my suitcase. She sits. I close it. She kisses my face.

\- Do you have to go right away?

\- Yes. I'll call you when I get there.

(...)

_[Narration: [Marissa] We are now at 12 minutes and thirty seconds! Oh, watch out, Barcelona comes in the back. (...) [Tom] Daniel to... It's him, it's Messi, Daniel Alves to Messi, he's dribbling, going to the goal line, can he shoot with the right? Opened the kick, going inside the area, it's completely clear, no one is markingg AAAND GOAAAAAAAAAAL! MESSI SCORES AT 13 MINUTES! [Marissa] There were no chances for the goalkeeper, what a beautiful goal with his right foot! [Tom] Yes he can score! Barcelona is now 1-0 Thailand! (...) [Tom] Neymar is warmed up and getting subbed in, 41 minutes and 15 seconds. Oh, would look at that, Marissa, that is going to be a beautiful pair won't it? [About Messi greeting him]. [Marissa] Yes it will Tom! Let's hope for a show tonight!....._

_[Whistle sound]. (...) [Marissa] And the whistle is on, the game is-... Oh, what is that Tom? Are they arguing? [Tom] I guess they are (...) Some sort of disagreement. [Marissa] Oh, wow. So soon!... [Tom] I'm sure it's nothing. Conflict of interests. [Marissa laughs] So there it is, Barcelona flies off with an 7-1 win on Thailand! This is Neymar's second game wearing the Barcelona uniform and after the commercials we will be right here evaluating his performance tonight, what a beautiful game tonight...]_

**[Whistle sound]**

\- What the fuck was that?!

\- What?

\- Why the fuck did you wanna fight the ref?

\- Cause we missed our penalty! You agreed with me!

\- I agreed but I'm not a fucking spoiled child! What the hell kind of...

\- I'm not spoiled, the ref was clearly wrong, I was stating my-

\- Ok, you know what. Nevermind. Keep that attitude. You can't just JUMP on refs when they-

\- I DID NOT JUMP IN ANYONE-

\- Fine, fine, ok. You didn't.

(Silence as they walk away. The stadium is still cheering).

\- You don't even know me. Don't call me a child.

••••

**[Park Hyatt Hotel, Bangkok]**

\- At first, I didn't understood what Martino had to say about him. I mean, I understood, but I thought he didn't have a point. But I can see his point now. He got his ego on the fucking sky. What I saw there was just...

\- Calm down. You're overreacting. (...) It's the kid's first games. He'll get used to the extra attention. I know him. He's settling in [inhales cigarette]..., _he leaned over to see the cars in the street._

\- I'm not bashing him. _[Motion asking for a cigarette. Daniel handles him the lighter. He lights it up]_. I just have this bad impression that he's trying to get his name all over the news... Like he just decided to act out.

\- C'mon, he's not "acting out", don't be dramatic. [Exhales] He's done nothing. It's one game. I don't think he wants even more attention after what happened to Rosell.

\- Yeah. I guess I don't really know him anyways.

\- You should try to, then. He could be lonely.

[silence]

\- I... I think not.

\- Look, that was harsh. I'm not saying to apologize but I'm saying you're still his idol. You know.

\- Right. Yeah. [Sigh] I'll talk to him tonight. I didn't even wanna go...

\- Cheer up. I'll be back in a minute.

•••

Daniel is back and we're walking down the hallway.

\- What language do they even speak here?, he said in a chuckle.

\- _[Laughs]_ You think I know? I don't know. Are we in the right place?

\- Of course we are... which one is it... 23?

\- Yes. Oh, wait. It's taiwanese. Right? They speak taiwanese?

\- Here. [Knocking sound]. [Laughs] I don't know. Is taiwanese even a thing?

Neymar opens the door. Doesn't look too pleased to see us, surprised.

Looks like he's in a rush. Oh, good, Martín is here.

"Hey, man", we hug.

[Daniel] You guys going down to the...?

[Neymar] Yeah!, he says, excited. You guys-

[Daniel] Yeah, we're going.

[Messi] Actually, I came here to ask if you would come. The two of you, now that I see Martín is here...

[Martín] We can all go together, right? So let's run.

•••• 

_"Royal City Avenue"_ , or just RCA.

Nightlife in Bangkok, apparently. I don't think I've ever thought about Thailand. It's one of those countries nobody even remembers the existence. I don't even know any stereotype.

But I'm sure I'll remember Thailand now. Would be hard not to, considering the fact I'm in a limo with my personal hero - who, by the way, called me a child on our second game together. You don't just forget this. I don't know what I was thinking. I did jump on the ref - slightly. I got mad because the ref had been looking at me with this pathetic shit face, like he was just waiting to make me mad.

Maybe I was a bit too paranoid. He had the right to call me out. The bad thing is, I now feel like exactly what he described me, a child. I don't know if I should say something.

(...) **[Lady with heavy english accent]** Your ID is fine, but you can't come in without a suit.

What do you mean I can't come in without a suit?

 **We have a strict dress code.** _*_

_What the fuck? I can't come in a club if I'm not wearing a suit? What kind of politics..._

**I'm kidding!,** she said, laughing her ass out. **You can come in. You're Neymar! Welcome!**

_[Guards around all laugh and clap. Messi is laughing.]_

_••_

(...) It was one of those weird places where you don't know if you're blinking too fast or if the lights are just like that.

The drinks tasted terrible. I mean, could I even drink as much as I wanted? Or will they take pictures?

 _A_ _ctually, no. No._ I'm not thinking about this today. It's Bangkok, it's RCA, it's Barcelona. I'm having fun. They can photograph and say whatever they want. I'm not drinking bad drinks anyways - apparently, I sit on Messi's table now. He put some champagne on hold.

_[Unintelligible catalan R &B music playing]_

I'm walking around this club as if I'm looking for something or about to see someone I know. It's fun, I'm tipsy, but I don't have any of my friends here, who I would want to talk about how crazy it is that I'm at a club in Bangkok with Messi. I can't be like that to the other guys. "Hey, isn't it crazy?". They'll be like "oh... no, not really". [Chuckling] Apparently, Thailand has a lot of beautiful women. It's too bad I can't see their face completely, which doesn't make a difference, cause I think they don't really care about my face either - they just kiss me before I can finish a sentence. I'm not complaining.

_-_ _Hey..._

It's not like I'm not needy or anything like that, I am needy, and I wanna have fun...

Wait, did someone talk to me?

\- Hey... Buddy. Hey!

_SHIT. It's him._

Hi!... Hi, sorry I couldn't hear you. It's too loud.

I know. Are you drunk already? _, he smiled._

[Chuckles] No!. _Shit, can I be any less interesting?_

[Smiles] Listen, um... do you wanna go upstairs? They have a penthouse. It's just too loud here.

Sure, let me just... _, I looked at the girl next to me. Would I let her here to talk to Messi? Damn right I would._ Let's just go. _Sorry, I'll be back, I whispered in her ear_.

We went up.

(...)

Do you... own this place?, I say, shocked, cause it's a freaking palace.

No. But they let me use it for no reason. [Laughs] I don't know why. _I_

 _have a clue why,_ I chuckled, sitting on this big red sofa centered in the middle of the room.

_Am I being rude?_

[Silence while Messi checks his phone. He stops and looks at me.]

\- So, what'd you want me here for? All due respect, I don't really smoke weed-

\- [Laughs] What?, he said in a funny face.

\- [Laughs] What? I made Messi laugh. I'm kidding.

\- Yeah. (...) I... I, [coughs] um, wanted to apologize, kind of. It's... I just went off on you a little, for nothing. I'm sorry for that. For calling you a child.

\- It's fine.

_I_ _s Lionel Messi apologizing to me in his Bangkok penthouse? Yes. He is. This is a real moment._

(...) I know it must be hard. You know, this transition moment. It sucks.

\- Yeah, it's not so bad. I've just been-

\- Do you want to drink something? I know there's stuff down there but they just have this amazing-

\- Please.

God, the music is so loud we can hear from here.

[Messi pours whisky in two glasses]

\- It's a Kavalan Solist. Have you had it before?

\- No. I'm... only 21. My experience has been mostly vodka and soda.

[Messi laughs. Sits across from him.]

\- So... what do you say? Spain?

\- Uh. What do you mean?

\- What do you think?

\- It's a good place. I'm still finding a rhythm. My rhythm.

\- I know what you mean. He looks down.

\- Did it took you long? In your turn?

\- No... Not really. My girlfriend knew Barcelona. So she moved in with me. She made it pretty easy. You know. A familiar face.

\- Right. I wish I had more of that here. A familiar face.

[Messi finishes his drink. Puts the glass down on the floor.]

**\- Well, you will.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know soccer players don't usually smoke, but I wanted some drama.


	3. I'm Not Your Nanny

[Messi finishes his drink. Puts the glass down on the floor.] _Well, you will._  
\- You think so? I'll find a familiar face?   
\- Yeah, of course. Players come here at first thinking that, it'll be this thing, you know, this spectacle, in which they are the star. Money comes in, you're just this ... egocentric mess. You feel like a God. (...) And then it's shit. Cause it's not what you expected. So you find familiar faces you can trust. When this happens, someone is gonna stand by you... it can be a... partner, coach, family, old friend, new friend. Someone's gonna be there when you doubt yourself. And you should keep this person close.  
I'm silent.  
\- [Chuckles] Sorry, I went a bit dark there.  
\- It's fine, really. I need the reality shock. Feel free to always give me advice, uh, stuff like this, it means a lot from a guy like you. From _you,_ really.  
He stares at me.  
\- Do you want more whisky?  
\- Sure.   
••••  
I spend the rest of the night talking with the other guys. We had a lot of fun. I just... have a question: were those hookers or the girls were just that nice?  
I opened up about my life, my old club, my country, my ex. Everything. They were very receptive and interested in me.   
I guess all we needed was to party together and get shit faced, black out drunk. The only problem is I'm still drunk, my head is spinning, my father called me multiple times and I got an 18 hour flight to catch. The things you do fit in. It was worth it, though. I felt like I belonged there. I truly feel like I'm now a Barcelona player.  
••••  
"Did you kiss anyone?", she said, giggling.   
"Oh, yeah. Tons of ladies. Just... kissing non stop. Wild."  
"[Laughing] For real, did you have fun?"  
"Yeah, I did. I apologized to Neymar. We drank Kavalan Solist."  
"[Laughing] Messi! You're so mean!"  
"[Laughing] Mean? What am I mean for?"  
"You know this Kavalan shit you call whisky tastes like crap. Like hell-"  
"It does not. He liked it."  
"Hm [chuckles]. Baby, I need to go to sleep. It's 2am. I got an audition and..."  
"Yeah, and I have a plane to catch. It's past seven here. I'll see you in 16 hours, or something like that. Good luck in your audition."  
"Thanks. I love you. Bye."  
"Bye."  
••••

 _[Martino's voice]_ Turn this shit down, Alexis. We're already taking off [on a plane], you don't need to completely ruin your ears.  
 _Alexis stares and removes his earphones._ Listen, everyone, uh. It's a long flight, and my wife is feeling extra tired, she'll really need the silence. So please keep it down. Downer than usual. Thanks.  
Everyone nods with their head. "When is she due?", I ask. "Well, she's only 15 weeks. I don't know. Do the math", he laughs and goes to his private cabin.  
I slept for literal 6 hours. It's a cozy chair, but still a plane chair nonetheless. I felt like shit. I woke up, ate, played cards with Sergi, talked with a few of them. And slept again - but got interrupted by my father, who've been calling me non stop for more than 24 hours now.   
If it was up to him, he'd have my ass on a leash.   
\- _What?_  
\- What? That's how you answer your phone?   
I'm silent. Trying not to hang up.  
\- Ok, listen. Did you see the news?, he tries again.  
\- No.  
\- You were on the news.  
\- Oh., _I said, completely uninterested._  
\- "Neymar attends luxury club in Bangkok in his first official night out with the Barcelona team".  
\- That doesn't sound bad. _[Chuckles]_ At all.  
\- It's not bad. Do you know what's bad? The fact I didn't knew where you were. Listen to me. You don't need my permission, but you do need to tell me. I take care of everything for you. I need to know where you are and what you're doing. This cannot get out of hand. Do you understand? I can't be hearing from you from the fucking news.   
My body is filled with rage. I can't scream with him on the phone around everyone. People are sleeping, I can't make a scene. So I went to the bathroom.  
\- No, I don't fucking understand anything. I went to a fucking club. How do you think my life's gonna be now?   
\- I don't _CARE_ how your life's gonna be now! I'm not changing and I demand some respect-  
I hung up.   
This was possibly my worst life decision. Putting my father in charge of my life. I was a kid, I didn't knew better. Now it's hell. And it'll last a long time.  
You know what, screw it. _I wanna get drunk. Yes, on the plane._  
I take a deep breath. I gotta get this mad expression out of my face. Another deep breath.  
Ok. I'm ready. And I want some champagne.  
 _"Excuse me",_ I went to the kitchen flight. "Do you guys have, um, any champagne? Just. Any alcohol, actually?"   
"Sure. Do you want something specifically or-"  
"No, anything will do. I just wanna open a bottle for me... and my mates." _, lied like it was nothing._  
"We have an Eagle Sauvignon Blanc. It's, you know, rosé. There's-"  
"GREAT choice!", _I said, not knowing the wine. Is it even wine?_ "Thank you so much. I'll have, uh... 10 bottles. Or something like this. Do you guys have ten bottles?"  
"No. We have... something around six, or seven. I'm sorry, we're just-"  
"It's ok, get me all of them."  
"They're 5 thousand dollars. Each."  
"No problemo" _, I smiled._  
"Does anyone want a sip of wine?", I said, in front of all of them, who were then silent. I had this amazing epiphany, 'damn, I'm really an idiot'. Then after a few seconds of silence, they just laughed and some of them clapped as a joke. _"Wow. You're a radical guy"_. I'm not, I'm just upset. I laughed back, the workers brought the wine, everyone was served.   
Messi didn't want it. He looked annoyed. Shit. Am I being a show off?  
Everyone was sipping wine, having fun, and I had a whole bottle in my hand. _Could I just do anything I wanted?_ Apparently, since no one seemed to think that that was weird, for some odd reason. The new 21 year old kid could just drink like this. Nice.  
We were playing cards, listening to music. Martino left his cabin and had some wine too. He looked at me in a weird way. Like I'm a surprise, but a bad one. Like I was bad news.  
An hour passes, everyone stopped drinking. Some guys are tipsy. Maybe this wine thing was too much. Maybe I shouldn't be holding a 2nd bottle. But it's fun, we're laughing. I can fake sober.   
_"Oh, fuck". Martino said, as he reads something in his phone. He stands up._  
Everyone stopped chatting and looked.  
"Well, this is bad... uhm. Neymar, you have a storm coming. Apparently, there's thousands of people waiting for you at the airport back in Barcelona. It's a real shitshow. You're gonna need guards. How do you wanna proceed? You wanna waste your time when you're down there? Cause..."  
 _Shit. I'm drunk as hell. What did I do..._  
"No, I'd actually like to go straight to the hotel." _, I said, sounding like a person who is trying to sound sober._ "Ok, so just do as we say. It's nothing new, right, for you? Paparazzi, stuff like that." "No.", _I laughed._   
Conversation started again.  
\- Well, this is...  
I turn around. **Messi.**  
\- What?, _I'm trying to play it cool. He didn't interact with me the entire flight. I feel like I had "Messi Talk to Me" in my forehead._  
\- A disaster. A P.R. nightmare. You have good P.R. right? Or an acting side job?  
\- What are you talking about?  
\- You're drunk. It's visible. It's gonna be a scandal.   
_My face burned._  
\- A scandal? A 21 year old drinking? God, arrest me-  
\- Don't play _stupid_. You know this is bad. For the club. Yourself. It's childish.  
 _Is he calling me a child for the second time, plus stupid now? Amazing._  
\- Can you cover me? _, I said, unashamed. [Laughing]_ Why didn't you have some of the wine?  
 _I was laughing because he was annoyed at the situation, and I didn't care. But then I realized he was actually annoyed._  
\- No one else here is drunk. You're the only one. It's embarrassing, and I'm not your goddamn nanny to cover for you.   
_I was silent. Why do I let him talk to me like this? He's sort of an ass. And rude. I would've gone off on anyone if it wasn't him._  
He left my side and sat down.  
••••

 _[Unintelligible screaming of phrases. Intelligible screaming 'Neymar']_  
I can't believe I'm searching for a sunglass.  
\- Hey, _I said, already regretting this._ Put this on.   
- _[Laughs]_ How's that gonna help me? There's a hundred cameras-  
\- Put this on and walk next to me, like we're hugging.   
\- Hugging? _, he said like it's the most bizarre thing he ever heard._  
\- Yes, they'll eat this up. It's me and you. People want this kind of content from us. Like we're best friends.   
He stays silent. His P.R. comes in. _"Look, I'll put on a show for them. We'll hug while he looks down and stays away from cameras. He can wear a sunglass, we'll just walk right through. I don't think guards are needed. I'll be next to him."_  
Well, it worked. He could walk - not in a straight line though - and he looked down the entire time. I hugged him and put his head close to my chest, we looked like best friends. Not like I just wasn't annoyed with him again.


	4. He's Better Than Me

**August 18th, 2013.**  
 _[Live commentary] Barcelona won their first match of the La Liga season thrashing Levante 7–0, with goals coming from Alexis Sánchez, Dani Alves, Neymar and Messi. The Gerardo Martino era at Barcelona began with a bang as his charges tear apart Levante at the Camp Nou. Some of the side's less-heralded players, Pedro and Cesc Fabregas in particular, also shone alongside the genius of Lionel Messi, while Andres Iniesta only made his entrance from the bench.  
Surprisingly, though, was Neymar's appearance, who had to settle with a late introduction at the second half of the game. That didn't stop him from shining through with his now teammate in Barcelona's frontline [Messi]. In an incredible span of 10 minutes, he assisted twice [both times to Messi] and scored once, which I think is incredible.  
We all knew his potential from seeing him in Santos, in the Brazil's National Team, we all knew he had "it". [...] We just didn't knew he was going to shine so soon, and without even having the time to regain his fitness.  
Levante provided uninspiring opposition and were outclassed from first to last. The contest was over before the season was 20 minutes old and they will need to improve swiftly if this is to be anything other than an extremely testing year for the club.  
In my opinion, Messi's performance was expected. [...] Though I'd like to discuss, really, the partnership, the... the connection between Messi and the forward Neymar. They both have amazing individual skills [...] but this time it seemed like they were one single player. The speed, agility, and, the 'brazilian way' to go makes Neymar an extremely interesting character to watch, easy to interact with [...] and Messi's skilled, cold blooded strategy is insane. No offense, but Barcelona has played a million games like this one before - they know they've won the minute they hear the first whistle. And even though it was a light game, Barça still shone bright with their new frontline duo.   
I'd say, bravely, that [...] hardly any duo will top this one. I'm not only talking about La liga. This is what the world wanted. [Chuckles] We've been waiting for something as powerful as Messi and Iniesta, well, I think we've found it. This was the tip of the iceberg.]_  
••••  
 ** _[press conference]_  
[Female voice] **"I gotta say, this felt like a new beginning for Barcelona. Not the success and winning _[laughing]_ cause that is what is expected. But the chemistry between you and Messi.", _she said, with a face that just basically screamed "please talk about Messi so we can publish it everywhere"._  
I don't think I have nothing to say about our connection...  
"Thanks., _I smiled._ I think it was a very, um... genuine. We didn't plan anything, and, we're only getting to know each other on field now. Off field too. He's a cool guy..." _why the fuck am I talking about him personally? I thought I had nothing to say?_  
[...] And, well, an idol. The world's best, you know. I'm sort of in, uh... well, enamored... with the idea that I'm playing with him. It's starting to feel real."  
 _I'm talking like I'm not also one of the most popular players in the world right now. Maybe I should stop the praise, but it's coming out of me like word vomit. He hasn't said shit about me so far._  
 _Oh, no. He's looking. He's making that weird stare again like I'm speaking freaking japanese. I'm embarrassed._  
 **[Male voice]** "What would you say was your biggest challenge fitting in?"  
"None. It hasn't been a challenge. I think I just miss my friends. But I like the feeling of something new." , I said.  
 **[Male voice]** "And, Messi... what would you say about today's game? The new Barcelona duo?"  
 **[Messi]** "I think it's, uh... Wonderful. I just hope we won't spoil it too soon. I hope that what we had - _he looks at me_ \- um, in this game, lasts for a long time. I think our 4-3-3 is going fine, we've done our best."  
(...)  
 **[Female voice]** "Messi, are you afraid to lose your place as the top scorer?"  
 _What kind of question was that? Are they trying to put us two as rivals? I thought I was the only crazy enough to feed this kind of competition._  
 **[Messi, laughing]** "No. He's great. He's, honestly, better than me, currently, (...) so I would think it's an honor to lose to him. We wanna use that, as a team. No matter who gets to be top scorer at the end, cause, well, we play for a club."  
 _Better than me?  
This makes up for everything._  
 _••••_  
Antonella walks in. I'm in my underwear.  
"We need to talk." _, she looks down._  
"Ok..." _, I sat on the bed. She sat next to me._  
"I... I got it."  
"Got what?"   
"The part. I got the part! I'm the main lead." _She had tears in her eyes. Happy tears._  
I didn't knew how to react. She wanted to be main lead so bad, and she got it. I'm holding her in my arms, kissing every inch of her face. I whisper that I love her in her ear while she lays on top of me.   
She's crying from happiness. Or... not? She's crying with a ugly face. She's ugly crying. That can't be happy crying.  
"Hey... hey. What's wrong?"  
"It's in New York."  
"Ok."  
"I'll be at least 5 months away. With, like, no breaks. They only casted me and this other guy from here and we'll both have to be there if we really want. It's so fucked up. I thought they were gonna shoot here."  
"Baby, calm down. It's your life career!... You left everything to be here with me. I'll... I can't, you know, do the same. But I'll wait. I'll be here, c'mon", _I'm speaking in the most soft voice I can, as I touch her face and wipe her tears._  
"I know. I know we can do this. But this is longest I'll be away from you in four years."  
"Yeah, for a good cause. [...] We'll make it."  
She looks up and smiles. "I want wine. The good wine. Let's celebrate."  
••••  
I'm okay with that.   
I trust our relationship. It's not a marriage - I mean, fuck it, you might as well call it a marriage. 4 years living together, even though we were only dating for 6 months when she decided she'd leave everything to be with me in Barcelona.  
I trust our relationship. I trust myself. I _definetely_ trust her. I'll find a way to sneak her in every once in a while and also leave every weekend to have dinner with her, or something.   
_"Can you put this on? I just wanna see if it fits"._  
I think I trust myself. I mean, I do desire other women. I guess. What's wrong with that? There's nothing wrong desiring other women, it's only natural. Why is this even going through my head like I'm about to have an affair? I'm not gonna have an affair, obviously. There's no reason for such a thing. I'm not that kind of person. That kind of guy, who can't go three months without fucking that he's just ready to cheat. And I do love her, so much,-  
 _"Messi. Can you put this on? I don't wanna be rude, but I just really wanna know if it fits correctly. I think it can be nice."_  
Oh, right, I'm at a photoshoot.   
"Sorry. I'm a little... this light is very annoying at my face."  
I put on the shirt. "It fits perfectly. Can we do some shots with this one, please? I love it."  
 _"Yeah! Sure! Do you need to make a call or, I don't know... you seemed pretty away."_  
"No. Let's do this."  
 _We took some shots of me in this promotional shirt for our new sponsored unifform._  
"Do you have anything against going nude?", _the photographer said._  
What the...  
"No. I've been nude before."  
 _"Let's take some shots. Like the ones at ESPN Body Issue. You know?"_  
"Yeah, [...] I've done Body Issue, I just don't think it's really the timing to... [laughing] pose naked. On a sponsorship. It just seems off."   
_[Everybody in the room laughing]  
"[Chuckling] I'm not talking fully naked, we can get you on just shorts, that'll be enough."_  
"Ok." _I can't believe I'm ashamed._  
 _I'm wearing only shorts. Posing with a ball._  
"Maybe we can leave him with just his underwear, and then he'll hold the ball like in basketball. On the finger tip."  
"It's soccer. Why would he hold the ball like in basketball?"  
"That's what makes it fun. We can say something, like, about the fact he can play any sport."  
"We don't know if that's really true."   
"It's just an ad."  
I just went through with it. The most stupid picture I've ever posed to in my life - me, twisting a soccer ball in my fingertip, like it's a basketball, for an ad.  
Thank god I'm a billionaire and this is not how I make my money.  
••••  
 **August 26th, 2013.**  
 _[Loud laughing in a locker room] [Unintelligible conversation]_  
Oh, God, no. Not this again. Not this again.   
_I'm guessing my magazine cover is published.,_ I said, as 3 grown men lose their shit cause I'm naked in a magazine. And I can't help but laugh with them.   
_You know, you guys should be considering yourselves lucky, I took one for the team. I did it to protect all of you! I can't help I'm the face of this team... I'm the star._  
They're still fucking laughing. "They made you look like you had a big dick. It's so fucked up", Dani says, _in tears_.  
[Laughing] "I _have_ a big dick. I don't understand what you're trying to say!"  
[Dani] Neymar look at this! LOOK AT THIS-, _he points at my underwear in the magazine._  
[Neymar] Oh, no... That's... [laughing] It's not something to be ashamed, they do that! They just do that in post! There's nothing... _the asshole he can't even finish the sentence from laughing._ There's nothing we can do. They just do it.   
"They didn't do SHIT! I just look like this." _, I was laughing my ass off._  
[Dani, wiping tears] No, for real, I can't do this, I can't keep this with me. Neymar, take it with you. I can't. This is an illusion. Take it home. I can't have it with me, it's turning me on.  
 _"Just shut the fuck up."_  
 _••••_  
[Martín] Yes, he ate.  
[Ricard] Did he go out last night? Did you guys went out last night?  
[Martín] No, I don't know where he was. But I think he didn't went out.  
[Ricard] Ok, everyone. Could you leave for a second? I think he's blacked out. Martino can stay.  
[Martino] Everyone, let's take a break. We'll just deal with this for a second.  
Everyone leaves.  
[Ricard] Neymar? Can you hear me?  
 _I can hear you just fine._  
[Ricard] Neymar?  
 _At this point, I'm just embarrassed to say I'm fine._  
"Hi. I'm listening."  
[Ricard] Can you get up, son? Are you hearing me? What happened?  
"I don't know. My vision went dark." Lie. "I think I'm gonna need a minute to get up. My head's spinning."   
[Ricard] Ok. I'll check your pupils. Follow the light, please. [Clicking sound]  
There was nothing wrong with my pupils.  
I simply fell and I didn't wanna get up.  
Like gravity was a bit too much at the moment. I felt this weird weight on top of me and simply stayed there. So I closed my eyes.  
I don't know what just happened; there was nothing wrong, factually speaking. It was just practice. But I didn't wanna be there. Everything's just... alien to me. I'm a fake, a phony. A lie, probably. Nothing they expected me to be. This is going wrong, something's not right. My mentality is wrong. My attitudes are wrong. My mind is just... twisting everything. I don't want those fucking girls in my hotel anymore. I want something familiar. I wanna know that I know something, I want my house. I want my old team. I want to interact with my old friends, but I don't have the balls to travel [to see them]. They're not mad at me, I know it, but I feel bad anyways. There's no money in my account enough to fullfill this alien feeling, as if my staying here is weirdly misplaced. My fucking father... that stupid hotel. I feel like a guest in these people's lives, in this team. Even practice makes me weirdly annoyed. And the pressure.  
I just wanted to lay there. I wanted everyone to fuck off and leave me in that field, just looking up and feeling like shit on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real gay shit.
> 
> >>>Ricard is the team's doctor*


	5. Can You Just Rip This Tie Off?

**Spain Super Cup, August 28th, 2013**  
[Tom] That's right. Xavi to Dani Alves. [...] Looking for a cross, but they're too far from each other [...] They're having distancing problems, but still seem to be able to control possession almost entirely. [Marissa] Turan. Setting up a last-ditch tackle to Fabregas [...] who can't seem to reach it at all. [Tom] Xavi steals it, he's calm [...] looking to exchange some passes. [Marissa] I think we're looking at some clear-cut chances here, but they're not getting that cross quick enough [...] oh, nevermind, INIESTA... [...] LOOKING FOR THE GOAL... SHOT, AND SAVED! What a save by Courtois! [Tom] Amazing save. Goal kick. [Marissa] Turan is looking for someone again. Tackle for Alves... [Tom] And he's running! Inside the area! SHOT! GOAAAAAAAAAAAAL! ATLETICO MAKES IT 1-0! Brilliant finish!  
•••• [Marissa] We're back at the second half of the game, now already at 46min. So far, it's 1-0 to Atletico Madrid. [Tom] In this second half, Barcelona's looking for an equalizer. Atletico's defense today is very well-drilled and controlled. I wonder if they'll be able to compete with that. [...] 49'min and Neymar seems to be getting ready to be subbed-in. [Marissa] He looks anxious. Pedro is out, Neymar is in. Let's see what he can do. [Tom] I think it's crazy he didn't play the first half. [Marissa] Oh, isn't this a wonder? Messi and Suarez just seem to be a lot more excited now. [Tom] They do! Neymar simply increases the forwards range. [Marissa] It's that inner strength kind of thing. We'll see. Now it's their best shot for getting an equalizer and winning the Supercopa on away goals.

••••• [Tom] We're now at 65' minutes. Barça is still looking for an equalizer goal. [Marissa] I think the frontline is definetely more agile, more vibrant. Atletico settled down, they're looking a bit more tired. [Tom] The game's a lot more intense, [...] Suarez. Dani. [...] The right back is looking for a pass exchange [...] to Messi. Messi... DANGEROUS CROSSING, NEYMAR, GOAL! HEADER! [Marissa] A HEADER! AMAZING! [Tom] Barça got an equalizer! Neymar at 66 minutes headed in a Messi cross at the back post! [Marissa] This is what people want. This is the connection. Look at that, look at that celebration. [Tom] It is beautiful to see the job this young man is doing in this team.   
••••   
He spend 5 seconds looking for someone (he shouldn't have done that, that was actually pretty dumb), and I was mouthing "me! me! throw me!". He saw me, like he remembered I existed, and made an instant cross. All I saw next was the ball flying in my direction and the wind knocking me after I headed it with all the strength in my body. We needed that equalizer.   
I got up and immediately turned around to see him, like a puppy looking back at its owner to see where did they throw the toy - which it's weird, cause I should've looked at the ball. I couldn't help myself, I just wanted to see his face knowing I scored.   
He smiled and came running in my direction. We fell on the stadium grass and he sort of hurt my leg a bit - he fell on top of me. I was vibrating.  
It was weird. I've lived this moment several times - and in the presence of more than 60 thousand people. Several times, really.  
But that was a different brand of vibrant. "It was just a header", but I can't really say that. Or else everything in soccer is "just" something. It was beautiful. The first time he treated me with something other than whatever it is he treats me with - I made him proud, I owned his cross. So he jumped on me and held me tight.  
I felt like a son who finally made his grumpy dad be happy for once. He always has that tense face, like he knows something is about to go down. But he was light after that. I wasn't, for some reason.  
I was _vibrating_ with this weird feeling. I shit you not, I had so much adrenaline going through my veins that by the time he jumped on me I was seeing stars. I felt _drunk._  
Then, like an emotional roller coaster, I went down.  
I just fell. Like in practice.   
It all went grey. A weird feeling. I'm fucked up when I don't reach expectations and I'm still fucked up when I give them exactly what they want - what do _I_ fucking want, anyways? Do I legitimately have a problem with my own job? No. That's insane, I love my job. I love my money. No way.   
I have a problem. I just don't know what it is. Occasionally, I feel like I'm heavier. It happens more often than I can keep track now - and apparently, it doesn't stop when I want it to; not even when I'm practicing or when I'm scoring a goal with my idol.   
I couldn't help but be expressive. I was having internal self doubt and questionings like fucking Socrates in the middle of a game. My first [official] game. We were about to win Supercopa, and after my goal, I was just zoning out in the middle of the field. He realized, obviously (we do stand next to each other) and, while Suarez was taking a free kick, he asked if he could talk to me after the game. I said ok.   
I decided to own my misery. I'm gonna own this bizarre sadness and just take the fucking role. I'm on the field, I don't need to be myself.  
So near the end of the game, I wanted to do something bold, to feel that adrenaline from the hug and the goal again. I tried harder and harder to score but I wasn't finishing very well. He talked to me again. "Are you ok there?" I just said "yeah, fine". Then we heard the whistle, and I just walked away.  
••••   
"Hey, hey. That was so good. That was awesome. Congratulations", I gave him my hand.  
"You practically made that goal yourself. I just headed in", he looked down at his feet.   
"Well, no, but also not just the goal. You had a good game. Brilliant."  
He stayed silent, just nodded with his head.  
"Give yourself that. You had a good game. Right?"  
"I guess I did", he said in such a low voice I almost couldn't hear, while he untied his soccer boots.  
Awkward silence while I change my shirt.   
"Are you hurt? Did you get hurt on field?... You're so silent, you should tell the team if something-"  
"I didn't get hurt. I'm fine, thank you."  
"Wow, so polite", I said, ironically. I don't know why I said that. I guess I was just sick of this thank-you-please interactions.  
He looked at me annoyed.  
"Look, dude, I don't know what's going on with you."   
"Neither do I", he laughed.   
"Is it girl trouble? Is it your family? What's up?"  
"Not a girl. Not my family."  
"Do you need to get drunk? Pop some pills? [Laughing] I could get us anything."  
"Anything?", he smiled.  
"I'm kidding. Obviously, I'm not gonna give you pills. I'm guessing. I just... I'm offering you the opportunity to talk to me before they send you to this psychologist the team has. It... it sucks, I hate that guy. And they'll send you. So just tell me."  
"I don't know if I actually have something to say. I just feel tired sometimes. With this [...] extra weight on my body. It's like I'm two people. I can't control this grey feeling."  
I stared at his face, because he couldn't look at me while he said that. He looked honest. I felt privileged. I guess a part of me also thinks he's some sort of idol, even if he's younger than me.   
"Is it too serious? Cause, that could be, you know... you could be depressed. Then that's something serious."  
"No, it's not like that", he said, certain.   
"Well, can you drown it in booze while you're in a yacht full of women?"  
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure not, but I'm totally in for the yacht."  
"So be there. It's tomorrow."  
"Oh, is it serious? What yacht?"  
"The club's yacht. We'll be having a party. No special reason needed for a party, that's just how we live [chuckles]. Let's bury that sadness. Maybe I'll tell you all the reasons I also can't sometimes be happy for a goal too."  
"I'll go. And I'll wait on your reasons."   
••••  
[Male voice]  
\- So... do you have an idea why you're here?  
\- Um, don't they all come here? Every week?  
\- No. Only the ones who want to, we can't force them, it's a very new concept. Sometimes staff will book sessions, special sessions, when a player needs it. Someone booked a session for you. [...] So what do you tell me?  
\- I... I don't know why someone booked a session-  
\- They told me you had something similar to an anxiety attack?  
\- Anxiety attack? No.  
\- On practice. You felt so anxious you basically blacked out?  
\- Uh. I don't know if that was anxiety.   
\- So you don't dismiss the idea entirely?  
\- No. It could have been. I wouldn't know, I never [chuckles] had that before.  
\- What could be causing you anxiety?   
\- I feel lonely. And... pressured. But as long as I'm working, I won't be _not_ feeling that. It's routine. I just need to learn how to deal with it in a way that isn't drinking hotel liquor bottles and zoning out during games.  
\- So that's why you're here?  
\- Just tell me what to do.   
\- I... can't tell you what to do. That's not how it works. It's a long turn commitmentt-  
\- Then I feel like there's no use with me being here, all due respect. Either tell me what to do or let me be, cause I'm not really a talker. I said, ending the session and just basically letting myself out. The guy didn't told me to come back, so I just left. I'm an asshole. I'm really not proud.   
••••   
[Skype videocall]  
[Antonella] So, do you miss me?  
[Messi] Obviously. Do you miss me?  
[Antonella] Yes. They're such assholes in here. I forgot that my accent actually makes them look at me twice. Like I'm speaking english wrong. Everything is just so fast, people are just... fast. Do you know what I mean?  
Messi is silent. Not really paying attention.   
[Messi] Uh, yes. I know.   
He scratches his head.   
[Antonella] Did you even heard what I said? You didn't, right? [Laughing] I hate you so much...  
[Messi] I'm sorry! Don't leave me!... I'm just overwhelmed. You know, I think I'm a fan.  
[Antonella] Whose fan?  
[Messi] Neymar's. I think I'm his fan. Isn't that weird?  
[Antonella] What the hell do you mean?   
[Messi] I found out today that I kind of idolize him. I mean, I'm his paternal figure, like a father, you know? But then today I realized I kinda dig him myself, too.   
[Antonella] Right. I'm gonna pretend I understand what you mean so we can move on from-  
[Messi] It's wild, he's going through some stuff. I guess his adaptation is not going so great, you know?   
[Antonella] Right.   
She looks disappointed.   
[Antonella] You know, I'm gonna go.   
[Messi, tidying his bed, speaking loud] I don't even understand him. But I sort of do. Do you remember my first month here? It was hell. At least he's killing it...  
[Antonella] I'll just go. We can chat later.  
[Messi, sitting down, staring at the camera] We just started talking.  
[Antonella, looking away] Yeah, well. We'll talk tomorrow. Bye.   
She hangs up and he just stares at the notebook.   
••••   
Shit, this tie is so tight. I'm a grown man and I don't know how to make a good tie knot? What have I done in this life? I also can't find shit in this room (I totally blame myself for that). Fuck it, I'm just gonna leave it like this. I can't really breathe, but I just feel like this all the time, what's the difference anyways...   
I've been to yachts before, I've _buyed_ yachts before, but holy fuck... This is an insanely luxurious yacht, and I'm only seen the outside of it. This definetely looks like a palace, an actual palace inside. I can't even guess how many rooms this has. Oh, it's gonna be a good night. Shit. Why's there a guard here?  
\- Hello, good night.  
\- Good night.  
\- May I have your phone, please?  
\- No?  
\- It's a policy.   
\- How can I trust this?  
\- You just do.   
[Dani] Ney! Come in man!, _he said, visibly drunk at 8pm._  
[Neymar] I'm trying, but this dude is trying to take my phone.  
[Dani] Oh, yeah, you can trust him. He's our guy. Just give him the phone.  
 _What the fuck, what is this? The mob?_  
Well, I gave him the phone.   
There's a fun ratio of 10 women to one man going on. I can't help but wonder, 'aren't some of these guys married?'. I guess what happens here, stays here... Yeah. I'm not just gonna tell our coach that we have 5 players sitting in a table full of cocaine. That would be bad.   
I'm kind of shocked - not only I've never done cocaine before but I also can't really interact with the guys I'm friends with now that I know they cheat on their wives - those girls on their laps are not _friends_. I know it's none of my business, but I can wait til they're done.   
That doesn't stop me from getting called to sit on their table though.   
[Ney, come here! Sit with us. We're playing poker.]  
Enormous round poker table, completely red, and also completely full of booze, coke and dollar bills.   
I don't know how to play poker.   
Messi is there.   
Hi, everyone, etc etc. How are guys? _Can I ask why is this woman licking your neck? No? Ok, moving on..._  
[Neymar] I don't play poker. I don't know how to play this shit, _I said, as I sat down awkwardly, pretending like I had seen all that before._  
[Dani] You're kidding?  
God, he's so drunk already, his face is hilarious. I started laughing.   
[Neymar] No, man, I never played this.  
 _[Sweet female voice] Do you guys want anything...?  
[Dani] Yeah, can we have those cigars that I said to put on hold?   
[Girl] Sure, honey. _He smacks her ass.   
Oh, wow.  
[Some of the guys at the other end of the table are screaming about something. I'm staring.]  
I'm starting to feel high just to be sitting here.   
Messi was not cheating on his girlfriend. He was just playing poker, acting like the table wasn't, again, full of cocaine. Though he got pretty excited when the lady brought us the cigars...  
[Messi] Ney! Ney! You gotta try this thing... Move over, please? Can you move the fuck over! I'm trying to walk-   
He sat next to me, a little euphoric from trying to move around 11 guys.   
[Messi] Look, hi, sorry [chuckle]. You good?  
[Neymar] Yeah, I'm just... [laughs]. This is crazy _, I said, pointing at the table._  
The music sounds extra loud now.  
[Messi] Yeah, these fucking guys... You need to try one of these, though. They're not.. you know, they're just cigars. They're not drugs [laughing].  
[Neymar] Fine, I'll try. Give me one.  
[Messi] I want a whole pack. I'm gonna steal a whole pack. Wait. I'll pick it up and then you follow me, okay?  
Messi got up and started to fiddle with stuff on the table, cracking jokes and filling people's glasses. I was laughing a lot watching his acting.   
He just grabbed one whole pack of cigars and put it under his shirt and looked at me like a child who's making some mischief. He pointed his head to the right and walked, so I followed him up these stairs, passing through a lot of people.   
Following these stairs, we ended up at this gourmet area, looked like we were at the yacht stern. There were some guys apparently almost having sex at this jacuzzi, so they left once they realized we were there . Yes, completely wet.   
There was also this amazing view due to being an open space. We could see the whole night sky. We almost couldn't hear the music anymore.   
[Messi] Ok, sit down. Come here. I'll just... open it...  
I sat down next to him at the edge of the stern, while our legs were floating in air.   
He was struggling to light it up, but when he did, he told me to do one first.  
[Messi] You gotta inhale lightly, and you can't eat the smoke you know? You can't treat a cigar like a cigarette. You should exhale right after.  
I inhaled, and then exhaled right after, just like he said.   
[Messi] Yep. That's right. What you think? Sweet, right?  
[Neymar] Yeah. Damn. What is that? I mean, the name? I've smoked cigars before, never this one.  
[Messi, laughing] It's a... Arturo Fuente Opus X A.  
[Neymar, also laughing] No fucking way. That can't be its name. No way. Say it again.  
[Messi] Arturo Fuente Opus X A!  
[Messi, laughing a lot] I swear to God, man. They'll come up with anything. They got these really huge versions. Like, 43 inches long. I swear...  
[Messi] Let me get something to drink. Can I pick yours?   
[Neymar] Oh, please.  
He grabbed a key under this weird sculpture and opened this little dor a few feet from us that had basically an entire minibar inside. He brought me some pure scotch. I wasn't used to drinking shit like that, but I accepted it anyway, and drank the whole thing like it was apple juice.  
[Messi] Your tie looks fucked up. I'm sorry, I just have to say it.  
[Neymar, laughing] _I KNOW_. I have no clue how to make a knot. This looks like it was done by someone with fucking vertigo.  
He's laughing.   
[Neymar] You know, can you just rip this tie off, please? I can't, this really looks like shit.   
He tried to untie the knot. I guess I have strong hands.  
[Messi] It's not working. Your suit looks nice, though. Wait, ok. It's off. Here.  
[Messi] What you're gonna do with this tie now?  
 _I looked at him, then at the sea. I paid 3 thousand dollars in this tie. And I threw it at the sea._  
[Messi] Well. A fish is about to be real fancy tonight.  
[Neymar, laughing] I hope he gets the girl. My tie is gonna give him a special touch.  
 _He laughed, then we just stared at the sea._ The waves were so calm you could barely hear them. Comically enough, this reflexive moment was ruined by the song playing, now considerably louder. It was something by, I don't know, I wanna say Fergie?, with completely dirty lyrics. So we just started laughing again.  
[Messi] How are you feeling? Better? _, he said, drinking the scotch straight from the bottle now._  
[Neymar] I'm fine. I'm lonely. I can finally say it, you know? I guess I'm just... fucking needy. But I'll be fine.  
[Messi] Yes, totally. If that's the issue, I think, [...] you'll find someone. Totally.  
We went silent for a minute.  
[Neymar] You know, the last game... was awesome.   
[Messi] We really were, weren't we? _, he smiled._  
[Neymar] Not just _US_. I mean... [chuckle].  
[Messi] It's just us here, we can say it [chuckle]. _We_ won that game. _We_ were awesome.   
He light up another cigar from the pack, and gave me one.  
[Neymar] Shit, it's blowing in my hair. The smoke.   
I was closing my eyes and messing my hair, cause I didn't want it to smell like cigars.  
[Messi] I'll blow the other way.   
He touched my hair, rearranging it to be normal.   
[Messi] Done. It's good again.  
We stayed silent again. I felt myself in a rush. Adrenaline rush. I felt weird. Like I wanted to just get out of there. But I also wanted to be there, with wind blowing my face and the calm wave sound while my feet floated in air. He was warm to be around. 

**I felt myself in a rush.**


	6. My GPS Is On

\- I've seen so many... mean things about you on the news, I wouldn't expect you to be this gentle.  
She was eating her food slowly.  
Oh, ok. I see it now. She was basically trying to eye fuck me since she sat down and now she's passing her fingers through her lips, touching my legs with her feet, looking at me with this face. Like she's staring at something so powerful, as if she knew I could pay every single person in this room to fuck off just so we could throw everything in this table away and raw each other like animals.  
I know that this is what she expects of me. To be this grand guy, this unforgettable experience, like fucking in a pile of money, so that when we cum she can text her friends all about it. All about what it was like to be with me.  
I'm not complaining. At all. This idealization of me, this lucid dreaming, visions of grandeur, only make my case a little better. Because if they could look at me for a second, they'd see I'm full of shit all the time. So let's hope they never do look at me.   
\- Do you wanna leave? Let's just do what you want to do. Let's just leave.  
She looked scared - which surprised me. I thought she wanted to hear exactly what I just said.   
It was probably my tone. I sounded actually impatient. I just couldn't stay in that bullshit dialogue any longer. You want something from me, you take it. Dont mess around, dont play nice, dont fake conversation.  
\- Yes. Let's go.   
••••••  
\- Look at me! Look at me while...   
She was moaning in pleasure, eyes closed, while I stared at her face, hoping I'd find something I had lost. I didn't find anything, but I still came. I had forgotten the feeling of that.   
It was only after I came I realized I actually didn't like her at all and that our date was shit. I didn't even had to ask her politely to leave because she knew from my face that I wanted to be alone. I rolled to the other side of the bed, covered a bit of myself in sheets and stared at the lamp next to me.   
I started the night thinking I didn't want to be alone, so I ended it just being an asshole, per usual.  
\- I guess you want me to leave? _, she said, stroking her hair._ She had the facial expression of a child disappointed in their parents. At least that's what she reminded me of.  
\- Do what you want. What you feel like doing.   
I got up and went to the bathroom, completely motionless. That grey feeling.   
Didn't pee, just stared the mirror.  
I couldn't stop being an asshole. It felt like compulsory assholishness. It felt like poison coming out of me, I just couldn't stop.   
She told me goodbye and left, as silent as possible, also slightly annoyed, but somewhat relieved.  
I guess I didn't gave her what she wanted.   
I heard the door closing, and only then I relaxed. I felt like being alone was my true natural state, I could breathe. I'm fucked.  
There must be something wrong with me. I can't make reason out of this. I just had sex. And I'm unhappy, and lonely. That felt a lot more like jerking off than sex.   
I wonder why my father hasn't called me in weeks. I visit a club at Bangkok, bam, he calls for 24 hours straight. I'm brilliant in field and am doing my job perfectly, and I get nothing.  
At least my mother cares (honestly, it doesn't feel that special either). She's obligated to care, and I doubt she actually watches any of my games.  
So, when I play, is there someone watching for me? Other than fans, do I have _anyone else_?  
Does my father even acknowledges me as his son or had my presence in his life turned completely into money? Expensive suits, power. My career felt like the perfect opportunity to light up the piece of shit miserable life he used to have, how come it didn't do the same for me? Can I offer my family something other than money?  
No, I can't. They're proud of me because I made them rich, not because I'm anything other than that.  
Shit. My eyes are full of tears. I haven't cried in such a long time, I'm not sure I even remember how to... act.  
I've made real connections in here. Of course I did.  
But I'm still who I am, I'm still Neymar, the rich barcelona player. Now uncapable of being anonymous, now uncapable of being truly... anything other than what I am.  
And those guys, the many many guys I've met, they can't see me. Or else I can't show them.  
Except for one person. The one I'd least expect to be interested in seeing me. It didn't took much, he just knew me before I even had the chance to hide anything. Just... like I'm completely naked. Visible. Sees right through me. Huh.  
I don't feel like I trust myself right now, and I'd like to talk to someone who'll just tell me who I am, and what to do.  
I'm gonna call him.  
Mindlessly, I called. He didn't pick up. So I stared at my useless phone.  
••••••  
Guess I'll really have to be alone with myself.  
Fine, but there's no fucking way I'm just gonna stay in this bed about to cry.  
I left my room and my heart was beating so fast I could barely focus on anything else.  
The hotel walls looked so weird - they were still red, obviously, but somehow they looked more vibrant. Am I high?   
I might as well be. I don't know what time it is and I don't care (but due to the silence in the entire hotel, I could guess it was at least past midnight).  
I looked for my car in the garage with the same excitement a kid looks for an easter egg. I got in, smelled the seats. They smelled like perfume. Cool.  
I started the car, and my heart was still beating fast. Without much thought, I just left.  
I wanna feel what I feel on field. When I score. When I got that rush, like I'm doing something wrong, but right. I wanna feel this again. Like what I felt the other night.  
•••••  
I turned the radio on, but I couldn't focus on the music.   
Barcelona is a beautiful place, at last something positive. Specially the huge trees, so tall and, frankly, perfect, that you could guess it's human made. The stores look particularly beautiful, shiny, something optimistic about them. There's this aura that I'm at the right place.  
The city lights are so soft I almost can't look at anything else. A mixture of red, blue, green and yellow, all over the place. There's not much screaming and shouting, but there's loud music coming from underground clubs. I know at least someone is getting some and having fun tonight, so that's good. I can be happy for others.  
I also feel extremely cold to be in a car without a roof top and no jacket on. I forgot a jacket. But I felt like I was supposed to feel the cold breeze, somehow. So I didn't mind it. It actually felt like the cold made me... calm.  
Suddenly, this wave of calmness in me. My hands let go of the steering wheel a bit, and I felt myself calming down. I didn't let go completely, I just didn't had a tight grip anymore.  
I drove far enough to not know where I was, but I didn't care.   
Again, I thought, "the city lights looks so nice". No matter how far you went, the lights would always look nice in this town. Incredible.  
The night sound is also different in here, somewhat away from the center, from the hotels. The lack of noise, music, traffic. It sounded like a different, isolated town.   
I admit that I got slightly scared because I didn't knew how far I had gone already, or for how long I've been driving - almost as if I had lost my sense of time, I felt completely anesthetized. **Fuck it.** I got no work tomorrow. I don't even know if I'll be alive tomorrow.  
So I wanted to accelerate. I wanted to see just how fast I could go. I can fuck up this car. It's not even my car, it's just something I happened to buy. Nothing in my life feels fully mine, I might as well ruin it while I can, and while there's no one around to try to shame or correct me.  
My feet hit the accelerator, and I saw the speedometer slowly going up. 80km/h to 120 to 140 to 180. I lost control of my impulse. I let go of the steering wheel for a second, and felt... free.  
  
In a matter of less than 10 seconds, I heard the sound of the wheels in the back scratching the road agressively and had the sudden quick conscience to get a tight grip back on the steering wheel and hit the brakes. There was a burning smell coming out in the back, but I just kept on trying to get the control back. Desperate, I didn't knew what to do anymore, since the wheel seemed impossible to control and the entire car went into skid mode, rotating and making this awfully loud noise in the road while I felt my body moving involuntarily in the same direction where the car skid.   
So I just gave up and let the car do whatever the hell it wanted, and watched myself hit the outside of a small shoe place, which was enough to make the car stop completely. Pieces of glass were all over my face, my hair and my car. The noise was so loud I could hear a buzzing sound in my ears.   
Just a few seconds after opening my eyes, I tried to reach for my phone, but felt about to pass out, weak from shock. After a few minutes of staying in the same exact position, I opened my eyes and felt the sensation of waking up from the most fucked up nap someone ever had in the history of humanity. I felt disoriented and my legs and feet were tingling, my hands felt ice cold and I could feel some of the glass actually penetrating my skin.  
 _What the fuck have I done?_  
I tried to turn around and look at my side, but felt too scared to move my neck once I realized it was hurting a lot.  
I wanted to just close my eyes and be back at my hotel room. Did I actually do this? Am I dreaming?  
No, I'm not, I was sure of it, now that my nose started to drip some blood.   
Oh, no fucking way. I'm getting out of here before someone call the cops.   
I reached for my phone in my back pocket and felt it already vibrating - a text.  
I tried focusing to see the name, and my head hurt. So I waited a few seconds and tried again.  
 _"Dani"_. Fuck that.  
I can't call someone I know won't be here, or who's gonna be too freaked out to help. I like Dani, and he's a friend, but I don't trust him to help me.  
Well. That leaves me with one option.  
Using the strength I still had, I slowly searched the letter "M" through my contact list.   
I clicked his name and called once. Then again, and again.  
Well, he's not picking up. Shit. Shit. Shit.  
I'm fucked. I'm fucked.   
I started to get really desperate and out of breath, as if I was about to die.  
I took a deep breath and decided I had to call my agent.   
I'm such a fucking idiot. I'm a fucking asshole.  
I called once, and he didn't pick up.   
I put my phone down and just looked up at the sky, that actually looked nice today. A lot of stars.  
I sat there and stayed immovable for a few minutes, wishing my life was just a nature's mistake, but no, I was still there, in my car, with glass all over my body and a nose dripping blood.   
So I tried again, because I had to.  
He picked up.  
\- John.  
\- Hi. Is there something going on? It's one thirty.  
The motherfucked sounded impatient. Great.  
\- I...I need you to come to where I am. I don't know where I am, I have no clue of the street's name, but I'm pretty sure I have my GPS on..  
\- What's going on? What did you do?  
\- Just locate me, please. I think I need an ambulance.  
He went silent.  
\- Do you want me to tell everyone? I mean, to contact-  
\- Yeah, just be here. Please. I'm sorry. Also, don't mind telling my father.  
\- Ok, I'll get everyone ready.  
••••••  
I didn't knew John so well. I basically hired the man because he lives in Barcelona and I hated my old manager, so we never had the time to talk for longer than 20 minutes. It was embarrassing that the first time we'll connect is when I call him because I ran my fucking car in a store.  
I was almost falling asleep, until I heard a guy coming and, frankly, quite politely removing my radio and running away. He didn't even look at me, and since it was dark, I think he didn't see my face. Thank god. I mean, take my radio all you want.   
I know I'm in a shit situation and I should be, I don't know, fearing for my life, but the guy robbing my radio was quite funny. I smiled a bit and just reflected on the comedy value of that scene. Me, with a bloody nose, disoriented and unable to move from shock, and this fucking guy just comes out of nowhere and disconnects my radio so gently you don't even hear a sound, and just runs off. It's like he pitied me.  
A few minutes after that, I heard a police car. So I just took a deep breath and felt glad for that sirene noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	7. We Laughed, And Laughed, And Laughed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay

**August 31st, 2013.**  
\- You're a good boy.   
\- Please, don't talk to me like I'm a dog. Or like I'm nine _, I said in a friendly smirk._  
\- You gotta call us. You have to call us. Do you get it? _, she said, touching my cheeks._  
\- Yes, I do.  
\- It's a long drive. Don't make us worried, my father said.  
\- I know, I'll call when I get there, for sure. Thank you. For everything, dinner [...] I should go...   
\- We love you!, she said.  
\- I love you too!   
We hugged one more time, all three of us.  
I got in the car seat and they immediately started waving goodbye. I smiled, cause that's all that I had left to do.  
It's always good coming at my parents' house and feeling a sense of normal life that I don't get to feel so often. Whenever I visit them, I get a little taste of what my life could be like without the rivers of money and fame.   
Even though I did get them a nice country house, a beach house, two cars, my dad's funding, all their debts. That I can always thank my job for. Being a single child, I did my job pretty well.  
••••••  
The drive felt so mellow. I wasn't in a good place with Antonella, and I kept thinking of my mom's face when I told her that. I think she'd probably cry and beg Antonella to take me back if one of us ever decide to end things. She really loves her. Sometimes I think there's something wrong in the fact that I'm not that enthusiastic.   
In fact, ironically, being away from Antonella made me lighter. It's good to come home to nothing and no one.   
I know it's just five, maybe six months away. But I think it's gonna make our relationship flourish, this kind of time apart. I'm remembering what it's like to live a single man's life and she's working on her acting career. What could be better than this? It's just what we needed.  
I'm also spending most of my time with the guys, and feeling like a part of "the pack" again. I have other friends besides the guys from the club, but you know how life basically obligates you to only socialize with the people you work with, cause everyone else is just way too far and too busy.   
I know I'm their friend, but I've been away for a while, mostly focused on not drinking too much and partying too much and acting 20 again. They felt that I was away, but nobody said a thing. I guess they're just glad I'm hanging out again. I didn't want to act 20, but I can't help myself right now. They're the only people I got, and fuck, do they like to have fun. And by fun I mean cheat, drink and spend all the money they have.   
I'm not judging. I'm a little conservative when it comes to being a show off with money, buying all the shit that I want. Wow, I literally live in a house shaped like a stadium. Ok.  
I entered my empty bedroom to see everything exactly the way I had left. It felt surprising to see everything untouched. The closed courtains, the tv turned off. Everything reminded me that I was alone, because everything looked exactly how I like. And that's not usually the situation.   
I threw my body in my bed, took a deep breath, and decided I was going to have a good day - starting by working out.   
So I went down to my gym and worked out for something around one hour and a half (I know, holy shit, right?). Days with no practice makes me specially anxious and energetic, and I have to waste this energy somehow, specially now that I don't have Antonella here. So this one hour and a half goes by pretty easily. It's nothing I'm not used to.   
Did I forgot to do something? Or do I actually have nothing to do? Yep, that seems to be the case.  
I went down stairs to pick myself a beer. Maybe two beers... or maybe I'll should just bring the entire six pack to my bedroom.  
I sat down, put my two feet in these ridiculously large pillows, laid back and turned the tv on. This was the calmest I've felt in a while. Everything was okay.   
_[TV Anchor Voice] ... his manager, John Schoeffling, affirmed the press this morning that despite the car crash, his activity in Barcelona will not be ceased. Their next game is due September 3rd, and apparently, Neymar will still be present for both practice and the actual match._  
I turned the tv off.   
I saw his picture next to a TV anchor, heard "car crash" and just freezed.  
My body turned ice cold. My heart was racing.   
I felt like running away to his hotel on my fucking feet.   
I can't believe I wasn't there. What? What kind of thinking is that?  
Oh, God, I think I might be having a fit.  
I sat on the foot of the bed and stared at the floor, unable to move. With my beer still in my hand, I touched the bed, trying to find my phone. I didn't. So I just drank the whole beer without a shrug.   
I looked at the windows, then at the floor, then anywhere else.  
My face was burning, and my hands were covering my closed eyes. I was so euphoric I could already feel the sweat in my neck.  
Ok, enough. I need to face this.   
I start to look for my phone intensively, almost desperately. The fucking thing was in my pocket all along. I picked it up.  
You have three missed calls. _Antonella, 07h53AM._  
 _Neymar, 00h53AM, 01h24AM._  
Oh, no.   
God. What the hell? What the hell?  
Why did he call me? Twice?  
And why the fuck didn't I pick up? Where was I?   
Right, my parents.   
I can't fucking believe this. He called me.   
My stomach felt curled up, like someone had tied it. I felt like I had caffeine going through my entire body, since now I couldn't stop shaking my legs. What do I do now? Do I go to his place? Do I call? Where is he? Is he okay? What the hell happened?  
If this was due to drunk driving, I think that, if he doesn't die, I might kill him myself.   
Ok. Breathe. Make a conscious decision.  
I called his phone. Nobody answered. Then I called several times. Still nothing.  
I also called some of the guys, the ones close to him, who all already knew. They didn't seem to know where he was, because his family decided to not disclose which hospital he's staying.  
So, on a whim, I just showed up at his hotel.

••••••  
\- You don't understand, I know what's going on. And I need to go into his room.  
\- Sir, I'm sorry, we don't just let people in because they want to come in. You don't even know his room number.  
\- I don't know, ok? Twenty three? Eleven? Fourteen? Just pretend I told you the number. Please.   
My voice sounded weirdly high pitched, but I couldn't help myself.  
She looked to her left and right, suspiciously. Typed in something in the computer while I stared hopelessly at her face. Then gave me a key.  
\- If anyone finds out about this, I don't have a job anymore. So make good use of your time.  
\- Thank you so much, _I said, kissing her hands and running off._  
I don't know exactly what I was looking for in his hotel room. Maybe a clue, a vodka bottle, a note, I don't fucking know. Maybe I just wanted to go through his things.   
He had some clothes on the floor and a messy bed. Bathroom had nothing particularly interesting.   
His wardrobe was surprisingly tidy. All the clothes were sorted by color, and he had an entire room just for suits. Real fancy suits.   
Seeing his things actually made me calmer, for some reason.  
I found nothing. So I just gave up. I sat on his bed, then just laid down. God, his sheets smelled like something fancy.   
He's ok, right? He's ok. Probably. Physically, at least.  
I picked up my phone and searched "neymar hospital car crash" like a foreigner trying to communicate in a foreign language. Since I heard nothing the tv said, I decided to read it now, calmer, and in his bed.   
_"Barcelona player Neymar crashed his car against a shoe store". "Despite the intimidating headline, the player is not endangered at all. Apparently, it was an artificial crash, which he only got mildly hurt. He's already being taken care of in a local hospital, which his family and professional team decided not to disclose publically"._  
I let go of my phone and just took a deep breath with my eyes closed. I felt relief. I wasn't a part of that.  
Did I really had to come all the way to his hotel just to read the news in his bed?  
Well, yes. He called me twice. I want to know what that was about.  
"Against a shoe store", I said out loud. That's sort of funny. But I shouldn't laugh. Why did they specify the kind of store?  
I looked around his room. Pretty big room, pretty fancy. I might as well crack open a beer and hope no one of his family comes up and sees me snooping around his stuff. So I searched through his minibar. Of course, it was loaded. But no beer in sight, just heavy alcohol. Well, it's what we have. I opened up a small liquor bottle of something I didn't even knew what it was, but that tasted absolutely terrible.  
Wait. Next to this phone, there's this table with nothing on top, but this huge fancy box, golden box. Does he really have an entire box full of magazines of himself? Oh, god. He collects his own covers. What a narcissist.  
I started to go through the magazines, which all had pretty ego-inflamating titles. "Neymar - Best of the World"; "Is Neymar the world's best?". I laughed, cause at that year, I won world's best. _Sorry._  
Wait. No, no fucking way.  
He has my magazine. My naked cover.  
I started laughing thinking that Dani actually made him took it home, and he had the politeness to put it together with his magazine collection. That's some education.   
A darker side of my brain thought that that might have a different meaning, but then, nah. Honestly, even if he did kept it as a... what's wrong with... we can all jerk off to our idols. It's not about the picture, it's about what it represents.  
I was laughing alone.   
I mean, it was Dani's joke. Why am I even thinking that he might... God, I'm so fucking weird.   
Then I suddenly stopped laughing, and got sad again. I sat down on his bed and drank in silence, wondering how it all happened, and why he called me twice. It's all so weird. I thought about our friendship.  
We had this connection on field that seemed almost electric - and we've only played together for a full month. And yet I already felt like I owned him something. I'm never gonna forgive myself for missing these two calls.  
As much as I wanted to keep the train going, I got distracted from my self loathing cause his bed smelled like a very specific perfume or maybe a cologne. So I smelled his pillow - in my defense, I wanted to know what perfume it was, convinced that I had definetely even used it before.  
But deep down, I knew I didn't.

••••••  
I called his number again, and someone answered.  
\- Hello.   
\- Uh, hi. Who is this?  
\- His father.  
\- Oh, hi. I... I've been calling for a while now, is he okay?  
\- He's been in a car crash _, his dad said, coldly. Ouch._  
\- I know, I mean, can he talk on the phone? I'd like to know where, um, he's staying...  
\- I think he doesn't want to see anyone.  
\- He called me.   
\- What?  
\- He called me, twice. Twice before he...  
\- Oh. [...] Well, in this case, I suppose... where are you? I can send someone to pick you up.  
\- That's not needed. Just give me the name of the hospital.   
\- We're at Hospital del Mar.   
\- Ok. Which time can I visit?  
\- Um... you might as well come in now, he's probably gonna get discharged today late at night or maybe tomorrow morning.  
\- Ok. I can go now. I'm on my way.   
••••••  
Fuck. How do I make myself not be seen in this hospital? I'm not ashamed or anything, but I'm sure he doesn't want any news associated with his name right now, even if it's about me.   
Oh. For my surprise, the hospital isn't filled with paparazzis and journalists. There's not one cameraman in sight. Amazing. I could walk freely.  
I left my car feeling anxious. I was scared to see him again.  
I was scared to see if his face was hurt, or the reason why he called twice. But I'll stop thinking about it. I'll just ignore it. I'm gonna say, "hey, I wanted to see if you're ok". That's it, that's all I'm gonna say. Why am I so nervous if I know he's okay?  
 _"You can come in now. Wear this tag. Room 46, it's the left aisle",_ this lady told me, and glued this piece of paper in my shirt, written "Messi". I didn't even tell her name, and didn't show any documents at all. Being famous makes me get used to shit like this.  
"How long do I have? In there?"  
 _"Oh, the time you want. He's not in intensive care, so,..."_  
"Right. Thank you."  
I walked around and felt... so weird.  
I was worried, and anxious, but above it all, I felt so important. So necessary. I know I wasn't, but I still felt like it.   
Being a part of this thing, even if a negative thing. I didn't knew how to react to that. To the fact that he's the hottest player in the world right now and I was the one visiting him in the hospital. No one even knew what hospital he was in, but I was in there, actively walking around there, on my way to talk to him. I spoke to his dad on the phone.  
Being part of an event in his life felt special. And I wanted to live more of that, more exclusive moments. I wanted to be close. Cause everything about and surrounding him is fascinating - I really do fancy him as an idol, and he's honestly just a kid. And yet I loved being part of this exclusive moment.   
I entered the room to see a surprisingly amount of people. Two women in a corner, his dad, and a guy who I think it's probably his manager. Neymar wasn't anywhere to be seen. Well, this is gonna be weird.  
"Hey", _I said, smiling, like I just came into a kid's birthday party without a gift._  
They all turned their heads to see me, the two women looked surprised. Nobody really answered, but his father. "Hey, son" he said in a weirdly raspy voice. We shook hands.   
I didn't wanna ask if he was in the bathroom or something because I didn't wanna sound desperate, so I just sat on this chair and picked up my phone to pass the time.   
His dad told everyone to, and I quote, _'fuck off'_. I looked a bit scared, cause I really didn't need his dad to make this scene just so I could check up on him, but he did it anyways. Everyone left while I kept this weird face that said "sorry". Before his dad could also leave the room, he stopped at the door, looked at me and said: _"talk to him, will ya?"._  
Well, okay.  
I waited for him a few minutes while going through my phone. Suddenly, he came out of this door I didn't even notice the room had.   
He looked at me, laughed, and then looked down.  
\- Wow. You're here to fight me, right?  
I was nervous.  
\- No, actually not, I said, getting up. I smiled. What happened?  
\- I'm okay, by the way.  
\- You're visibly okay. Now tell me what happened.  
He started to go through this bag sitting on top of this chair, and pretended he didn't heard me talking.  
\- Dude, c'mon.   
He closed the bag.  
\- I wasn't drunk, if that's your question. I wasn't high either. I was clean, and just (...) lost control of the wheel.   
He said, looking everywhere but my face. I sat down back.   
\- Ok. How fast were you going?  
\- I don't know. One eighty.  
I gagged. Is he suicidal or just fucking stupid?  
\- Were you trying to get yourself killed?, _I said, a lot more annoyed than I had planned to be._  
He just looked at me, shocked that I said that. It was only then I could see how his face was hurt. His left eyebrow had a small cut, and also the left of his upper lip. His nose had a bandage, and his eyes looked like he hasn't slept in days.  
Maybe I pushed it too hard.  
\- I didn't wanted to die then, and I don't wanna die now. I just lost control.  
I nodded with my head, trying to believe that.  
Fuck it, he's saying it. I _have_ to believe it.  
\- Ok., I said, still checking his face out.  
He stopped walking around and sat on the bed. Then he smiled. We stayed silent for a few seconds, and then he started to laugh. I don't know what was funny, but I started to laugh with him.   
\- I found your stuff, you know, _I said, in a funny voice._  
\- What stuff?, _he said, still giggling._  
\- Your magazines. You're in love with yourself. You should seriously check that out. It's not okay.  
\- You went to my hotel room? Wow. Well, I bet you have the same box in your place _, he looked directly into my eyes._  
\- I don't. But we do have one magazine in common, though.  
\- Oh, you're a fan. Which one?, _he smiled in the most assholish way I've ever seen him smile._  
\- The one where I'm naked.  
\- _NO!_ Okay, God, you were not supposed to... that is not really _*mine*_... that was...  
His face went red, which I thought was hilarious.   
_So we laughed, and laughed, and laughed._


	8. That's A Good Question!

\- And what conditions would that be? _, he said, in a slightly challenging tone._  
\- Anything she wants, _I said, before my lawyer could say anything. I was looking at her, directly into her eyes, because I truly wanted to apologize correctly for my fuck up._

She looked sad, somehow. Even though she knew I could renovate her entire store and pay her a considerable amount as retaliation, she still looked sad for what I did. So I felt like an idiot, because that store obviously meant something for her than just money. I'm an idiot. I'm lucky she didn't wanna sue me.

\- I could pay you the amount you want. I can offer you something around, I don't know... maybe one million euros, maybe two millions _, I said, sounding almost ashamed for having that kind of money._

I know her store was not worth all that, absolutely not. But I don't care.   
The lady and her lawyer looked at each other, and I looked at my own lawyer, who didn't look happy, for some reason. Probably because I was saying everything that went through my head after refusing to discuss anything with him. Well...

\- I didn't knew we were already talking quantity. Is this a bribe of some sort?, _the guy said, with both his hands crossed._

\- I don't believe this is the case...

\- Bribe for what? Are you insinuating something? Cause she doesn't have a lot to say about the accident, and she doesn't even own the security footage, which is also not very interesting to you two. I don't... need her silence. She has nothing to say about me, cause other than what happened, nothing capable of making profit off can be seen in the tape. Unfortunately, it's just me, unconscious, in a car. So, if the plan was to rip me off, you can do just that, cause I'll pay. But, please, don't act like I've done anything other than what I did. _I interrupted my lawyer before he could shut my gigantic mouth._ He stared at me.

What a shit lawyer I got myself... He just stood there, quiet, like he forgot what kind of sandwich he was going to eat for lunch today.  
After what I said, the room went silent for a few seconds.

Her lawyer got up and they had a private conversation out of the room.   
They came back, and she looked suspicious, like she's done something wrong. I guess she felt guilty for taking my money. Well, I felt guilty for destroying her store.   
The both of them sat down, he wrote something in a paper and showed her. She nodded positively with her head, still silent.

\- Ok, seems like we've got a deal then. She wants one and a half million euros. I told her we could definetely go higher, since this is basically what you receive for, I don't know, half of one match, right? _He smiled._ Anyways, she doesn't wanna go higher than that, even though she should. So one and a half million euros it is.

He looked smug and his voice sounded insulting. It's like he felt mad at me for making money, which is... understandable, but I still didn't knew how to react, specially with him staring at me.

\- And I accept it, fully [...] Also, I'd like to apologize again... for what I did. I'm sorry _, my voice trembled._ I looked at her.

She looked back at me for the first time since we started the session, and said what I felt was the most honest thing I've heard in a while.  
\- God bless you. 

We shook hands, and my useless lawyer left first without much enthusiasm, followed by the lady, who just seemed like she really wanted to get out of there and be done with it.

I'm glad things went down okay and I didn't ruin somebody's life for being an idiot. 

A few minutes after they left, I was scrolling through my phone when I realised that at the corner of the room there was a coffee machine. I got up there and started to fill a cup with some of it. Then... a hand in my shoulder. 

I looked abruptly in a jump scare. It was him, the asshole lawyer. I didn't even remember that he was still in the room, since he was so silent, and I was distracted over my phone.  
Before I could say anything, he already interrupted me. 

\- Do you... 

He looked down in this weird smile, like he was going to ask me who was the first president of America or some other weird, smug shit that would probably end up in a joke.

Then... he licked his upper lips, and I frowned my brows, because, well,... _what?_

\- Date men, by any chance? 

_What?  
_

I got so nervous that someone might be hearing that, that my first thought was to look at the door to see if it was closed, and it was. Then I looked back at him. And for some ungodly, unholy, mysterious, irrational, hidden, dark and twisted reason I said.... 

\- That's a good question. 

_**What?** _

\- Well... _he nodded smoothly._ When you find out, you can give me a call. I hope there isn't a line.

He took a card out of his wallet, with his professional information plus his personal number, and gave it to me, while he literally checked me out, his eyes going up and down. I took it, despite the thoughts in my head asking me what the fuck. And I rightfully put it back in my own pocket, staring at him. I could feel myself nervous.

When I came to realize, he was standing awfully close to me.   
He touched my chin and left without saying a word. And for the same ungodly, unholy, mysterious and dark, twisted reasons, my face went a bit red, and I didn't understood what just happened. This lasted thirty seconds and I felt in more panic then when I hit my car inside a store. Unbelievable.

••••

**September 3rd, 2013. Mestalla Stadium.  
**

_[Phonecall]  
_

\- Well... but can you watch it anyways? I mean,...  
\- It's a six hour difference. I'll be at work, for sure. I'm sorry.   
\- It's cool [...] you know I love you, right? A lot.  
\- I do know that, _she said in a smiley voice, and I could tell she was making a sweet face._ And I miss you. And I think being away [...] it makes me think that... there's stuff we should talk about, you know? I don't understand how we never talked about.. stuff.  
\- What stuff? _, I said, thinking that this conversation was about to take a turn._  
\- I don't know. Stuff. We never discussed, you know, the terms of our relationship.  
\- Terms? What terms should we discuss now? I didn't knew about terms.  


She went silent for a second and I started to stare at the mirror and touch my face.

\- Well. It's just, actually... it's funny. The script, um, you know, the movie, it's making me think. It's about people like us. Who just... don't talk about anything. Do you remember the last time we had a serious talk?  
\- Yes. I wanted to try butt stuff and you said it was a no go.   
She laughed out loud.   
\- No, not like that! Like... okay, see? That's what I mean. I just think that... I don't want us to get married, or have kids, or... before I get the chance to learn about who I am. I know it sounds selfish, but you should also get to know yourself without me.

_I couldn't believe the bullshit I was hearing.  
_

\- I know who I am without you. And he's just an annoying guy with trust issues and alcohol problems.   
\- No, you're not.   
We went silent again. I kept staring at myself in the mirror, but now, feeling confused.  
\- I'm just saying..., _she laughed a bit._ You know, I'm not there. With you.  
\- Right. I know.  
\- So go wild.  
\- What?!  
\- Just... I don't want you to think that this has something to do with me, cheating or something,...  
\- Well it sure sounds like it. What the fuck?  
\- I'm not cheating, please listen. Calm down.  
\- I'm listening.  
\- You can live your old life. I'm giving you that. I'm finding a new part of me I didn't knew existed, and I want you to do the same while I'm gone.

_Live my old life?_

\- Fine. It's so great you're finding yourself, just, please, tell the guys fucking you that you have my blessing so you can continue on your new, enlightened journey of self discovery while screwing everyone you want.

 _I hang up, annoyed, and immediately regret every single thing I had just said.  
_ I checked my face in the mirror again. I looked good, and confident. And I definetely needed that today.   
I heard a knock on my door followed by a "dude, are you okay?", so I left, without explaining myself, about to get on field and be incredible, again. 

••••

I high fived the kid they assigned me to and proceeded to get on field, next to Ney.   
He was giggling, and I didn't understand why. So I just looked at him, not really trying to make conversation, but he told me anyways.  
\- The dude looks like Donatello.  
\- Which dude?  
\- That last one on the left.  
I looked. Yeah, he did not look like Donatello. How did Donatello even looked like?  
\- No, he doesn't.  
\- Yes, he does. The turtle. The mutant ninja turtle.  
Shit. I couldn't help but laugh, cause the dude actually looked like the turtle.  
I got on field with a mean, angry face, trying to be intimidating. Then he tells me the dude looks like Donatello, and I can't maintain my angry face anymore.

 _ **[Whistle sound]  
**_ I started the first half more energetic than usual, and other players seemed to be the same way. We started off with a strongly offensive tactic and pass exchange, Valencia couldn't even smell the ball.  
Then their defense realized that we were going in for an agressive game, so then me and Neymar couldn't even keep the ball without getting fouled. There were several attempts to score, and no one got lucky; turns out Valencia have a pretty decent goalie.  
At 39' minutes, Neymar threw me an amazing ball, basically perfect, and I just had to make a good finish. I did, but it hit the post. He came to me and we hugged it out. I knew the first half was about to end in a few minutes, so I told him, "let's try this all again, maybe we'll one-two if we need it. The exact same, just us, it's gonna work".  
So we started trying, and the clock was ticking. I admit it was a selfish decision to keep the game basically just between us two, but the rest of the team knew this was now our only chance to score before the first half ended.  
Then it finally worked, and it was absolutely the most beautiful goal I had scored in a while. It was impossible for him to know what I meant when I point my head and make a dumb face, but apparently, he did. I was standing behind him in case we needed to one-two, which was not necessary, because he dribbled the two guys on his own. Then I ran to the center of the midfield and hoped he'd see me, and while we both ran, I pointed my head left to let him know I'd be there, even though I wasn't sure he saw me doing that. We got lost in the crowd of players trying to foul him [apparently] and he had to trust his gut that I actually was in the middle, and that I'd take his cross and finish it. Which is what happened. I didn't even see him, just the ball. I cushioned the ball with my chest and scored with my right.   
When he saw I scored, he came running in this funny walk, like he was dancing, and jumped on my arms. We hugged it out, relieved to have scored, beautifully, on the 44' minute of the game. He kept making a funny face at me.   
Then the ref raised his flag and called my goal offside. The whole crowd started booeing. Even the Valencia players agreed.   
It was absolutely not offside.  
The match basically stopped, and our entire team came running on the ref's direction defending my goal, myself included. He was telling us to shut up and listen to what he had to say, but no one seemed to know the definition of staying silent. I was screaming not only for the guys to shut the fuck up, but also to the ref stop pretending he wasn't seeing me right in front of him, actually talking something other than nonsense. He got so mad from the yelling he started to push me back aggressively, and I hadn't even touched him. Neymar _obviously has a temper problem,_ so, predictably, he came to defend me and things only got worse - cause now he pushed Neymar back to the point he almost fell and everyone had this weird paternal reaction to seeing him trip on his feet, including myself. That made me lose the rest of the patience I still had. I pushed the ref back, and at this point, I wasn't defending my goal anymore, just straight up insulting the asshole, who then pushed me (again!) and gave me a red card. Unbelievable.   
I had to leave the field and my goal was disallowed. I was fucking furious.

•••••

 **[ESPN Female Narrator voice]** He [Messi] got mad alright, but apparently, their star and his teammate, Neymar, who just got discharged after being hospitalized due to a car crash, made justice to their disallowed goal by scoring a full on hat trick against Valencia in the second half of the game [...] his first hat trick ever for Barcelona. He really made Messi justice with a 3-2 score that he worked really hard for. [...] This was Barcelona's first win at Mestalla since 2011, and it's amazing that this was done in the name of their new star, Neymar. If this is what he can do in the field after going through a traumatic experience and practicing for less than two days, just give him the Ballon D'or already. All it takes is to mess with his buddy Messi to get his goat response. Amazing work. 

I was sitting in my bed watching that, and I smiled, for the first time thinking that I wasn't an asshole, and that what I did was pretty neat. My friends and family in Brazil sent me pictures of them watching the game together, and I wasn't alone. I felt happy, for once; for a change. I almost couldn't remember the guy that crashed his car or who couldn't get up in practice. I felt new. There's this comfortable silence in my room, and I just closed my eyes and enjoyed myself for a while, glad that I was feeling happy, glad we won the game, glad that I wasn't a complete asshole and that I was actually good at my job. Today's match felt eye opening of my own potential I had seemed to be forgetting. 

Then... no. His face. The lawyer's face... just popped up in my head. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

My brain was desperately excited to think about that, like a child waiting for desert after eating their dinner. But I still felt like I couldn't think about that. It terrified me. It's as if, if I thought about anything related to that, my head would instantly explode.

I got up and started to look for the pants I wore earlier, that happened to be in the bathroom. This weird gut feeling started to bother me. It's not like I'm doing something straight up _illegal_ , I just wanna see if I still have the card anyways.

I started to go through both of my pockets, and I found it. The bathroom light was so strong it almost made my eyes hurt, so I left and sat on the foot of my bed, still carrying the card in my hands. 

I stared at it, unsure what to... do. Think. Feel. 

Why me? I know he asked if I dated guys, all right. But he was confident in my answer. Like he knew something about me not even I knew.

Do I have a _"way"_ about me? 

I started laughing out loud. No, I don't have a fucking way. That was not about me.

I laid down again, and covered myself in the sheets, still holding his card in my left hand. Then I threw it across the room, but not agressively; like one of those bastard cats that just throw around everything when they feel like it. I don't know why I did that. But holding that card felt like holding a bomb.

I turned the tv off, looked up and... bam. The lawyer. Again.   
_What?_  
  
Why was I so impressed? What was so different? Nothing, right?

The tv sound was so low it felt like people whispering in my room, and for a second I realized I was alone, and I could think about anything I want. It's not like someone's gonna know. And anyways, I had absolutely no reason to be impressed.

But my mind seemed like it just wanted to go there and _stay there_. I started to replay the entire scene in my head - when he licked his upper lip, how close he was standing next to me, the... pure audacity to assume something so bold. The courage. I could never do something like that. 

There was something hot about that context. 

And I couldn't stop thinking about this, in a loop.

A loop that was just filled with random images of... him. Is that why he was so annoyed at me? Was he flirting? Did my speech turn him on?

Can I turn _even guys_ on? Well, now that's a question. 

I feel privileged if it's true, attention is always good. Too bad I'm never gonna know, cause I couldn't call this man for my life.

Why did I answer "good question", like I didn't knew the answer? I knew the answer. Yeah, I did.

Ok, I definetely need to sleep before my mind eats me alive. My head has no space for that lawyer. I'll just think about something else. 

[The way he was standing so close to me. He checked me up and down.] [Call me when you find out.]

My breathing was a little faster, and I felt something in my stomach. I knew what that feeling was.

The way I jumped on him after that goal...

 **Wait!** No. _No._ [His magazine cover. Yeah.] 

That's forbidden territory. No. _Not him, not that, nope. No. Not that._

God, go to sleep. Just sleep. Fuck.

I felt even more euphoric now, like a fucking teenager.

Before I could realize, I had a hard on. And I managed to completely forget about the lawyer in a matter of seconds. 


End file.
